On one trip I brought my kayak and had them drop me at the bridge over SR 27. I paddled a few miles down to the rapids, right next to where we usually camp and portaged. It is a quiet part of the river and really didn’t make much of an impression. I am more of a fan of the fast flowing rapids in the Powers Island to Paces Mill section of the metro ‘Hooch.

One day I started to wonder if you could paddle from Powers Island all the way to McIntosh Reserve. I put up some post on the local Adventure Racers board to get feedback. Mostly what I heard was negative. Why would you want to cover that section? What about the pollution? Then someone mentioned a guy who had paddled the ‘Hooch all the way to the Gulf of Mexico.

Now, I am used to undertaking most of my hair brained adventures solo, since most folks just don’t seem to share my sense of what is a good time. I contacted Richard to get information on what to expect. I figured to get the usual 80% of the necessary information and gut out the rest. I was very pleasantly surprised to find a fellow adventure junky that not only gave me ALL of the info I needed, but thought it was a good idea and wanted to come along. Lucky me!

In short order we set a date. Richard arranged a shuttle and much to my surprise there would be a muster of about 10 paddlers. This would be my first kayak camping trip, so I assembled the necessary dry bags; freeze dried foods and various other gear. I also attended some Eskimo roll practice sessions just to be prepared. As the day drew near, my adventurous streak was working up to some great expectations!

Saturday April 4 we all met for the first time at the CRNRA Powers Island Park put in. Arne, a friend of mine from work, also joined our merry band. By 0900 hrs we are on the river and the weather is shaping up to be perfect. Passing through the shoals and chatting up some new companions was exactly what I had hoped for. We stopped at Paces Mill for a moment. This was as far as I had ever been before. Now we are on to what, for me, was virgin territory. It was a nice easy section of the river until we reached the Water Works.

We had discussed this particular water hazard and most of us were using spray skirts. Richard went first and made it look easy. He was followed by Doc who seemed to be the trusted lieutenant. Well, this trip had been my idea and I was not about to hesitate to tackle this obstacle. Into the chute, over the fall, into the wash and HOOYAH guess who is still upright!? Seven more paddlers repeated the exercise with a 100% pass rate.

We pulled over river left and removed our spray skirts. Laughing and horsing around a good time is being had by all. This was the perfect start to what would be a near perfect day. We set out at a comfortable pace and just enjoyed the river. As we moved along we seem to be leaving civilization behind. How ironic that we are straddling some huge industrial complexes.

We pass I-285, I-75, I-285 again and I-20. Then we hear a roar that could pass for a horror flick soundtrack when I realize that we are right next to Six Flags over Georgia. We can actually see the Scream Machine from the river. Who knew?

We pass by Sweetwater creek when someone puts forth the idea to paddle upstream to the Sweetwater creek State Park. We all enter the mouth of the creek and I start to realize that there is quite the current we are paddling against. With Doc out front and Tim to my side this turns into a sprint to make some ground. We are paddling hard and moving slow. Finally Doc turns back and says there’s nothing much to see. Tim responds that we 3 are the only ones left anyway. We all turn back and enjoy a blast of speed without the effort we’ve been putting in up ‘til now.

We rejoin the group and it’s an easy wilderness paddle for the next few miles to our planned take out at the Metro Atlanta Softball Complex. The boat ramp is a different challenge. It is ankle deep mud and slick as snot on a doorknob. We each take our turn at navigating this obstacle. I have about 30 feet of rope tied on to my bow so I slither up past the mud and then tug the boat up to me.

We line up the kayaks and head over to the softball fields. Eventually we find a working spigot and get relatively cleaned up. Clean hands and feet and a cold Red Bull bring me back to the human condition. Next we make camp by pretty much circling up and putting up tents. Richard has a virtual 7-11 of junk food in his boat.

Then we all sit around enjoying the fellowship. Camping stoves cook up a variety of goodies. Late afternoon turns to twilight and I turn in to the relative comfort of my expedition hammock.

We are at a public boat ramp and the softball games are still going when I turn in. Anyone who has camped in such a situation knows that the challenge is to tune everything out and get a good night sleep regardless. I heard a loud muffler during the witching hours but tried to tune it out even though it sounded very close.

0700 hrs and Richard is up. He is whispering sweet nothings to the rest of us to make sure we are all up. He comes back by my hammock and asks if I moved my kayak after dark. I’m still wiggling out of my cocoon and say no. Half thinking this is a little New Guy humor… I hear Richard say, “Then we’ve got a problem”. WTF…I arise to find my kayak is gone.

Before I know it Richard is gone -down a muddy jeep trail. Tracking tire marks and a skeg line with his flashlight, he is gone before I can catch up. I follow the same tracks up to the bridge but decide that discretion is the better part of valor. I stop there and listen intently. I called out for Richard but didn’t want to give him away if he was sneaking up on anyone…

To make a long story a little longer, we call 911 and it takes some time before the police arrive. I filed a report and called my darling Wife to come pick me up. As of this writing, it looks like the insurance will pay, so there will be another boat and another trip, but this one has reached its conclusion.

Discuss This Event In The Forum!

This two day, 53 mile kayak trip down the Chattahoochee River started at the CRNRA’s Powers Island Park located near the intersection of  I-75 & I-285 on the north side of Atlanta. The plan was to meet in the park at 8:00am, unload our gear and take the vehicles to a different parking location.

When planning a kayak trip for a group, there has to be some flexibility built in. It isn’t unusual for something to go wrong and that something can be big or small. We had some of each on this trip. Our first minor problem happened to the veteran paddler, Doc, who forgot to bring the keys to the security cable that locks his kayak to his truck. Doc and I are regular paddling partners and many times in the past, we shook our heads when someone forgot something, yet we feared the day it would happen to one of us. While writing this, I know my day is coming. Luckily there weren’t any radar speed traps between I-285 and Cumming that Saturday morning…

The trip started on time as ten smiling paddlers made their way down the Chattahoochee River. The weather was cool on this April morning, but the temperature was predicted to reach the 70’s. Rain from the last several days had the river level above normal. The shoals were underwater and the wave train at the Devil’s Race course was mild. After a brief pit stop at the CRNRA’s Paces Mill Park, we were on our way to the McIntosh Reserve.

The sky was clear and the sun was shining by the time we reached the water-works near Atlanta Road, which was our potential “you might go swimming here” hazard. Everyone got wet. Some got really wet, but no one went swimming. This was the exciting part of the trip. Unfortunately we didn’t have a professional photographer on the trip. The water kept moving me around waiting for each paddler so I didn’t do a very go job of taking pictures of each paddler in the waves and missed a few. We stopped for lunch on the sand/mud bar at Nickajack Creek, the half-way point for the day’s paddle. It was a good day to be on the river.

The weather was beautiful and the flow helped move us along. After another 11.5 miles we arrived at the take-out, which was a boat ramp for a park beside the Metro Atlanta Softball Complex on Campbellton Road. The boat ramp was covered with slippery, slimy, foul smelling mud, so our challenge would be to get out of our kayaks and up the ramp to the dry part, without falling. Again the group came through with flying colors and very muddy feet. The kayaks were pulled up the ramp through the mud, then carried to the grassy flat area. Now it was time to clean up.

Previously, there was a water hose along the fence line, but it was gone. Someone found a water trough under the bleachers/concession hut that solved our problem. You would have to see it to appreciate it. After the de-mudding, some of us decided to have a real “ball park hot dog” or corn dog for supper. The concession stand was open for the softball season and there were several league games in play that day. Time to set up camp.

We started to set up our tents on the grassy island in the parking lot with our kayaks pulled up beside each tent for easier un/loading. This was where the next minor problem arose. Bonny forgot her tent, but luckily she called friends who brought her one of theirs. Tom had a hammock so he hung it between two trees, off to the side of where we were, at the tree line. His kayak was left near the road where we first carried them all up from the river, 50 or 60 feet from his hammock. This would prove to be major problem #1. After getting our tents and hammocks set up, we chatted until dark.

During the night, some four wheelers came into the park, zipping around making loud noise. Most thought it was a bunch of kids trying to disturb our sleep, until the morning, when we woke up and realized they had stolen Tom’s Wilderness Systems Tsunami 125 kayak with all of his gear! Kayak drag marks led down a dirt road behind the campsite, through the woods to the power line tract where the trail disappeared. The police were called, a report was made and sadly, the trip lost a paddler as Tom’s wife was called to come pick him up.

The day would not get any better. It was cool and overcast when we started our 33 mile paddle day and it wasn’t long before the rain came. It rained sporadically for hours. Several times it rained hard for a few minutes. During a dry spell we stopped for lunch. The mud here wasn’t as deep as it was at the boat ramp (and it was ‘clean’ mud not slime) but by this time it didn’t matter. After several more hours paddling in the rain, cold and wet, the decision was made to shorten the trip by 5 miles and take-out at the US 27 Bridge. It had been an experience and a good river trip, but it was time to go home.

GPS mileage for the two day trip: 49.15 miles.

Thanks to those who went on the trip. I hope each participant will take time to contribute something to this event discussion. Send pictures, if you have any; enjoy the slide shows and look forward to another river trip.

Richard Grove

Map on next page…

If you’d like to write a post about your trip, we’d love to include it here!

The group submission images are on Richard’s Picasa account:

Chris has an album here:

I felt strongly that an early morning paddle (pre-dawn), was worth driving up here for and seriously, you’re paddling with The Grove…  If ever you want to try something where you may have to use both hands -he’s up for it! After the large paddling groups I’d been around recently, the chance to paddle quietly in the dark (I must fix that creaky seat!) without having an unwarranted social interaction forced upon me, was too good to give up.  We agreed on nearby Lake Keowee; that way we could strike camp after the paddle.

I love the early morning.  Many trees have a specific odor that the heat of the day and stirring winds drive off.  At dawn, more birds are vocal than an hour or two later.  The lingerie of mist on the water tarts up the same ol’ same ol’ river banks. The fresh light of the early morning when you’re half a mile up a creek with your paddle stowed, soaking in that peace at last/eight-breath moment. You and your kayak. Far from the morning news; morning coffee; people who are/n’t morning people; and just about morning everything else.  That to me, is paddling.

But first, you have to get there.

Anyway.  Morning brings Paul Deiner setting up his collapsible FloBot kayak.  Very interesting stuff.

Pretty soon, Richard, Belton Dykes and I head out to the put in as it’s the Day of the Paddle (DOP).  This is where I start paying close attention to the calibre of the group.  Long boats.  The sexy kind.  Thank goodness.  I have a practical reason to spare myself a day of trying to keep up.  Logic, it’s like magic ointment for testosterone.  Now I can make like a bear, spending my day in relative solitude, seeing what there is to see, listening to nothing louder than my broken, creaky seat.  Joy.  It’s not that I mind paddling with all groups, but folks tend to get chirpy when they’re having a good time and I get fresh, steaming chirp elsewhere.

The water clarity at Jocassee is, in my limited experience, exceptional.  The lake looks deep too.  Apparently there are things to see if you go diving: an old church; lodge etc.  I’d like to see that.  It’s been a decade since I last went diving… (Forgive me Richard, for I’ve been slack, +10lbs on my gut and a chill in my sac…).  The most remarkable thing about Lake Jocassee is the geology of the area.  The place is littered with honking slabs of granite that have naturally split off from the mother lode into Viking fireplace-sized slabs.  The early bird in me was shrieking ‘Home Improvement Project!’ while the citizen in me was thinking ‘State Park…State Park…State Park’.  What Would Yogi Do?  I don’t think they used Tsunami 140’s to haul rock for the pyramids back in the Old Country…

When it was about time for tea (~10:30am EST),  I caught up with a group of long boats at the NE-most point of the lake, East of Grindstone Mt.  There was a bit of a beach and small waterfall.  Popular spot with the day-tripper pontoon-boat crowd.  After a bit of chillaxing time-out, the group moved on to the West of Grindstone Mt. where a creek invited you explore.  Not worth the almost certain risk of scratching the bottom of a violin boat, some folks moved back out into open water.  Being of bony-butt, I can not sit for prolonged periods of time, even with the air cushions.  Moving on.  Taking advantage of the opportunity to explore the series of drops upstream, I beached my boat and picked my way up river trying not to slip on the algae and/or dip my camera in the wet.  There is some beautiful rock up there, if you’re into that kind of thing.

After a few minutes, a group of young locals sped past me obviously on their way to something specific.  The Daschund in me pricked up it’s tail and followed as if I too knew the secret handshake once we arrived.  With my luck, it’d be a gathering of the Brotherhood -but at least we’d all have some fun before it was over.  Eventually, we reached a pretty good granite water-slide.  I’d guess it was about 50’-60’ in elevation and about 90’ long.  In trying to find it on the slideshow map, it looks like it is located in NC.  I did it once, face first, at great risk to various body piercings, haha.  Watch out for that last lip on the final 2 feet.  It’ll tear your arm off.  Sigh, good times.  Since I’d been out of contact with the paddle.net group for more than an hour by this stage, I headed back to my boat in case someone thought that it was a good idea to wait for me to get back or something.  Reunited, My Precious and I headed back to the morning’s put-in point at full speed.

A marathon later, I arrived at the ramp as the last of the group loaded their gear onto their cars and pretty soon, it was just the three of us (Richard, Belton, moi).  I’m not sure what time it was, probably just after 3pm.  There was still a few hours of daylight left and y’all know Richard -we came here to paddle so let’s paddle.  The weather promised rain from the NW and the wind picked up.  We headed towards the Lake Jocassee dam wall.

Seeing as I was dragging myself throught the chop (with the wind behind me!) I figured that I should see what I want to see first, and then swing around to the other stuff before I was too tired to make it back against the weather in time.  The dam wall was built using granite hewn from the adjacent cliff face, a task, the scale of  which always amazes me.  I wanted to check it out for myself.  The photo’s don’t do the site justice.  It was a little tricky taking photo’s as the chop was crashing against the wall etc.  Not my usual paddle experience so I enjoyed every minute of it.  You look at the slope of the surrounding hill and then you try to guesstimate how deep it must be at the face -wow.  That must have been a sight to see before they flooded the valley.  I bet it was miserably cold work too.  Amazing.

By now, I was on reserves and the chop was getting heavier.  My water-distanceometer told me that Richard and Belton were way too far ahead for me to catch up to them and besides, it looked like they were well on their way back to the truck.  Damn.  What seemed like a Git-R-Done-hour later, with the light failing, I made it back to the boat ramp to see Richard dozing on his boat in the little cove without a care in the world.  My bony ass had had enough.  To the camp site Jeeves.  We still have one more day of this, I thought.  Did we miss anything?

The next day, the good stuff.

If you get onto one of the paddling lists that Richard keeps in his head, you may get a phone call the night before a multi-day trip inviting you to get your gear wet…

This time, it wasn’t Baja or the Costa del Sol, but definitely a local paddling area that was on one of my lists: Devils Fork State Park, Lake Jocassee, South Carolina.

Lake Jocassee is in Sumter National Forest which forms the NW-most tip of SC where it borders TN and NC.  This area is about 10 miles from Table Rock State Park (check out the photo’ map view on the slideshow).

We camped at the neighboring Lake Keowee Toxaway State Park as the Jocassee sites were all taken, which worked out great for me as I got to scope out more of the area for future reference…

In keeping with the spirit of ‘Drop off the schedule to go paddling with The Grove’, I didn’t want to know much about what the plan was.  As long as water obeys gravity and bubbles eventually float, I’d make it back to my desk…  So, this was some sort of pre-arranged Paddle.net group meet/place-smile-to-pile things.  Folks were bringing their hand-tooled, wooden marvels for show and tell, plus of course the paddling cameraderie.  Paul Deiner brought 4 boats including his FloBot collapsible kayak I wrote about in the Gear section.  Belton Dykes rode up in the truck with us from ATL and he too had a wooden stitch & glue kayak he had made.

Not being a real paddler, I have only a passing curiosity in the great tree of paddling, nevermind the ethnocentric adaptations in the various forks of said tree.  I may have looked into what distinguished a British Form kayak from the GreenLand/Inuit, but I had no appreciation of the difference between stitch & glue vs. strip built kayaks, besides the raw construction process.

If you do a quick search of the web you’ll find a day’s worth of links to sites filled with videos and articles on all of these topics -which is my way of saying that I won’t contribute to channel clutter by reproducing any of it here.  Interesting stuff.  Paul is past-his-elbow deep into it.  It was very much like going to a sushi restaurant and having to learn how to use chopsticks, which masks the glorious subtleties of the main event.  The action of the GreenLand style paddle is novel and no doubt your brain will learn how to finesse it.  If it were a horse it’d be an Arabian, no spurs allowed.  Once you get it to agree to do what you think you both might enjoy, you’re in for a great time.  If you ever have the chance to use one, try and be rude and borrow it for as long as you can to wear down the learning curve.

There’s not much I can say about the superb wooden craft that some folks brought.  When I paddled in Paul’s creation, I felt like I was playing Three Blind Mice on a Balestrieri violin.  Very, very nice indeed and then back to my plastic boat that can take a punch and enjoys looking for a fight up every creek.  Well, that’s not really fair.  I guess I embraced the fact that my devotions lie elsewhere, but I am truly appreciative of the opportunity to try on a dress for the ball…  Does it come in a green-gold-fleck?

The next day…